


the truth that saved us

by Ashling



Category: Dublin Murder Squad Series - Tana French
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, Week of Ficlets, Week of Ficlets: Unforgotten 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling
Summary: Pat goes monster hunting.
Relationships: Conor Brennan/Jenny Spain/Pat Spain
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	the truth that saved us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).



On the attic floor, the beast and I rolled and wrestled, snarling and snapping, trying to catch hold. It was soft in places I hadn’t expected and angularly bony in other places, all jointed limbs; I couldn’t imagine what my phone would show me if only I could get free. I would die for a photograph if only I could get free. 

Suddenly it went limp in my arms, and there were lips against mine. Human, and gentle, and everything the beast was not. I let go, and heard a gasp.

“It’s me,” said Conor, in the dark. “It’s me.”

I swung the arc of light all around us. Conor was half-curled on his side, coughing, but there was no body. No beast. The floor was wavering. I felt drunk. 

“We can’t do that again. Pat, please.” Conor hauled himself to his feet, grabbed my face in his hands. “I can’t do that again.” He was shaking and bruised. His shirt was smeared with blood.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” I said. 

“Yes.” He was so close I could smell the sweat and the fear. “Please, Pat.”

“Okay,” I said. When I leaned into him, our foreheads touched. “Let’s go.”

He said we would smoke it out, but when the walls caught fire I wasn’t surprised. When the roof caught fire I didn’t mind. The whole house blazed to life. 

Conor sagged against me, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. When Jenny came, pale and crying silently, I put my other arm around her waist, and felt ten feet tall. 

“We couldn’t hunt it out,” I explained. 

Part of the east wall—what would have been our bedroom—collapsed in on itself with a roar.

“Well,” Jenny said, “it can’t survive this.”

“No,” I said. “It’s over now.”

Upwind of the house smoke, unsteady with exhaustion, and sharing one cigarette at a time between us like we used to when we were kids, we waited for our new life to arrive. Conor watched the house, and I watched him. His eyes made him look much older than I had ever seen him, but his bruised face was washed clean by the cold white salt air of the morning. He looked holy. He looked ready. 

Eventually, he caught me staring. 

“This was the only way,” he told me, every word soaked in conviction. 

I told him I believed him.


End file.
